As It All Ends
by fascimility
Summary: [TenKen]How Gaiden might have ended. A guess.


Disclaimer: Minekura-sama owns all.

Notes: 80 minutes, overshot by 5. Sorry about that, I hope it still can be salvaged? Writing is still very rusty. A guess on how Gaiden could have ended. For tm challenge: Last one standing. Comments and criticism welcome.

_**As It All Ends**_

The dying light shone through the steel bars and fell on the stone, clear bars that illuminated a fading path to the steel door. Tinged red, like the blood that had congealed on Kenren's arm and was smeared in crimson swaths on Goku's blanched skin. Konzen's immaculate robe was filthy and Tenpou's own ragged where he had torn off a strip to staunch the bleeding from Kenren's forehead.

Tenpou reached forward and placed a hand on Goku's wrist, applying pressure and relieved to still feel the feeble pulse throb beneath the clammy arm. The boy's slumbering form was half-turned, back facing the shadows of the cell. Darkness shrouded the remainder of his form, and Tenpou could swear for that instant that the vision of a grave had drifted before his very eyes.

Tenpou automatically reached into his breast pocket for cigarettes and lifted the flap. He drew one out with a deft movement of the fingers, twisting it round and snapping the box close with a single turn of his wrist. From across the cell he heard Konzen stir, and he turned round in time to catch him rise from the corner. Konzen's features were carefully schooled into calm impassiveness, and for a moment Tenpou was willing to believe that Konzen was still pristine and untouched, the last shred of reality in his endless nightmare.

"Goku is asleep?" Tenpou murmured. It came out more as a statement than a question, and for a moment Konzen only stared numbly at the cigarette in Tenpou's hand. Tenpou and said gently, "Get some rest, Konzen. You're tired." He paused, and let his tired eyes meet Konzen's before continuing, "We all are."

Outside the clatter of boots rang down the narrow pathway and resonated in the cell. The empty laughter that reached Tenpou's ears made him twist inside. The roar of anticipation built within his ears like an orchestrated chord, built upon his fear and reinforced with his knowledge of inevitable doom.

He paced the length of the cell with nervous energy. He felt the icy slabs beneath his feet as real as the fate of him own impending doom, and his mind grasped onto the idea like a dying soul clutching onto the remnants of his life. Twenty-eight steps across and twenty eight back, the cycle like a track imprinted onto his fevered mind.

His back stung where the whips had cut into the flesh, deep gashes where the blood still flowed in rivulets down the contours formed by skin stretched tight over bone. His stomach still churned, but he had long learned to ignore the complaints of its hunger and stave off the pangs by sheer force of will.

From the opposite corner of the cell a lighter flared and illuminated the darkness for the briefest second— on-off, off-on, on-off— a staccato pattern that cut through the haziness of Tenpou's mind. Kenren flipped the lighter easily with one hand, the other dead by his side, limp and shackled.

"You'll wear out the floor with all that walking," Kenren said, some of the playfulness of old still in his voice. He looked down, and Tenpou could barely hear the humour in the comment. "All the better for escaping, General," came Tenpou's light reply. The semi-darkness hung before him like a cloud of wispy fog, where the warmth from Kenren's body and the chill of death coalesced and he could see the vestiges of his own broken will in its wavering form.

Goku shifted in his sleep and the chains that bound him rattled softly. "You think we'll make it out alive, Tenpou?" Kenren said as he resumed flicking the lighter. On, off, on, off—the lighted seconds forming a series of tableaux, moments stolen from what little time there remained.

"No promises," Tenpou said quietly. He turned round and looked Kenren full in the eye before continuing, "Gods can't die, Kenren. Maybe we'll live after all." Kenren sighed softly, shifting such that his face caught the last rays of the sun. "You know we will."

Tenpou stopped and tapped the ash from the cigarette, letting the grey flakes fall to the floor. "General, there's nothing that I know."

He walked over to where Kenren was sitting and bent down low. "I love you Kenren." The cigarette flared up briefly and Tenpou turned away. The next words fell from his lips almost inaudibly, "Yes, we will die."

Tenpou took the cigarette from his mouth and placed it between Kenren's lips. The smoke rose from them and spiralled off into the ceiling. "Stay a while, Kenren. I'll go check on Konzen and Goku," he said as he withdrew. Moving off he missed the familiar comfort that emanated from Kenren's body and thought of how he would, in the long nights to come when he would be screaming his lungs out for mercy, miss their presence even more.

Tenpou moved to Konzen and shook him gently, careful not to disturb him should he already be asleep. Konzen was silent in fitful slumber, a frown etched into his pale face. Skillfully Tenpou reached into the inner pocket of his coat and drew out a broad flat object, its edge sharpened to a point. The knife was reassuringly heavy in his hands. He brought it to the exposed arc of Konzen's neck, drawing it across the soft flesh and cutting through bone. Warm blood trickled down to his hands where he knew it would stain them red, a red that he would never forget, as red as the Dragon King's eyes and as plentiful as his regret. 

Konzen choked lightly and twisted sideways, mouth wide in unvoiced horror. Blood thick and viscous coursed down his throat and out of the deep slash. Tenpou inhaled the sharp copper scent of newly spilt blood, drinking in its heady scent, repulsed yet drawn to it at the same time. He knew Konzen's death had been an almost painless one—to die in a restless dream held less suffering than murder in a bleak reality.

From where he stood he turned to Goku and saw the boy sprawled across the cold floor, lifeless and drained. In the dim light he could no longer make out the rhythmic rise and fall of Goku's chest, and could no longer discern the faint inhalation of breath accompanying each beat of the heart.

The blood matted in the Goku's hair stood out stark against the untarnished golden, marring its perfect beauty. Tenpou closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer; in it begging for forgiveness and understanding for the grievous crime that he had committed and wishing for retribution to be swift and brutal. He wished to be alive even after the ordeal was over with, and to be in the company of the men he would die with. 

Walking back to Kenren's side Tenpou knelt down and cupped Kenren's face in his hands. "I will always love you, Kenren," he whispered into the other's ear, pressing his forehead against Kenren's hair. "Perhaps we'll meet again, General."

Tenpou pressed himself against Kenren, drawing strength from the steady beating of his heart. There they lay, bodies slick with blood and sweat and hot against each other. Kenren discarded his shirt and threw it carelessly away. The cigarette had long fallen from his mouth. "We will, Marshal. I'll look for you, even if it takes eternity."

"Glad to hear that," Tenpou said, a smile creeping onto his lips. He wrapped his arms around Kenren's waist and drew him into a tight, suffocating embrace. Tenpou snaked his arms round Kenren's back and came to rest on his neck, where they caressed the smooth skin delicately.

"Forgive me, Kenren," Tenpou said as he slipped the knife from his palm into his hand, applying pressure on the slender vein that ran along Kenren's neck. When Kenren turned limp Tenpou shut his eyes and concentrated solely on the act of slicing alone, willing the image to leave his mind. 

Regret inundated him like a monstrous deluge, flooding his heart and seeping out from where his spirit was broken. The sun had set and all that was left was ebony darkness mingled with the chilly night, the stars distant as the promise of the next morning and as beautiful as Kenren's eyes as the light vanished from their depths.

Silence fell upon him, an impenetrable cloak of hollow emptiness that seemed to his mind the sides of the grave, as final and as eternal as it was. Death was his only comfort and he could not administer it, torn he was between dying as escape and suffering as life. The knife from his hand clattered to the floor and he lay down gently on the immovable stone, closing his eyes and letting the deadly lassitude take over his wearied body.

At least the rest of left, gone for the promise of a better world to be tossed about in the wheel of reincarnation. He hoped that with his action at least they could be spared the cruel torture that lay before him like an unavoidable path, long and treacherous, with certain death as the only end.

They had not the bitter responsibility to bear for the gravity of their actions, for they were absolved from that duty by the simple virtue that they were dead. Gods can die, he thought, we are only mortal after all.

Tenpou was, and would always be, the last man standing.

Till the very end.

The End   
06/02/2005


End file.
